


Lost Dog

by badseb



Series: The story of Dean (and Castiel) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean, Bisexual Dean, Dean has problems, Dean takes fucking care of his fucking family, God is a Piece of Shit (probably), Graceless Castiel, Growing up with an ignorant dad, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hungry Cassy, Hurt!Cass, I can, I fucked with the timeline because, John Winchester Is A Piece of Shit, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Castiel, POV Dean, Pie, Please forgive my timeline sins, These boys are broken, did you ever think that maybe the sons are wayward because the dads are shit, family sucks, hurt!Dean, painful relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8739712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badseb/pseuds/badseb
Summary: Dean finally finds Castiel. He wants to kill that friggin Angel. Or take care of him. Or maybe both. Fuck it.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piggybacks off of the end of the "Story of Balthazar (and Sam)" story. Basically I screwed with the timeline, Salthazar is real, Destiel was real and then Dean was betrayed with Cass becoming God, and then Cass went straight to graceless human Cass. Dean finds him in an alleyway.

Dean glanced at the Graceless Angel who was eating ravenously. Dean's own stomach twisted around uncomfortably. But he knew that his deepest feeling was relief. Relief that Cass was still alive. That Cass was here where he could take care of him.

Cass didn't look at him, but kept his eyes on his burger as he ate quickly, his shoulders brought in protectively as if hew as trying to make himself as small as possible, afraid of someone finding him and hurting him. Dean didn't want to know how the other Angels had reacted to his god phase. But that was over. Dean didn't have to decide if he thought Cass deserved getting hurt by the other Angels or not. He didn't have to think about that because it was done.

That was good. Dean didn't usually let himself think too deeply about stuff like that. It always hurt too much and he didn't have time to deal with it, he always had to keep running, keep fighting. Or maybe it worked both ways. Maybe running and fighting was him getting numb enough to not feel everything that hurt him. He took an angry swig and looked out the dark window.

But why did it have to be Cass that hurt him? He had redefined his life for Cass. He had rediscovered himself for Cass. And Cass betrayed him on a level he could not even comprehend. He breathed deeply and tried not to get angry. 

He had to take care of Cass. Cass had taken care of him.

He remembered when he first started feeling for Cass. Castiel approached feelings differently. Yeah, he was basically Spock without a filter, but once he had a feeling there was no hesitation. Cass had come straight out and told Dean that he loved him. "Profoundly, accompanied by intense sexual attraction" was the phrase he'd used. Dean pushed him away and hid for a while because he knew that he loved Cass too- but he couldn't face it all at once. He had been ashamed.

All those years of hiding it, knowing that if he just ran fast enough and pushed hard enough he could hide it. He did like girls and that made it easier. But Dad's comments and jibes at anyone who was a little "homo" taught him to hide those feelings real quick and real deep. He was jealous of Sammy's ability to just accept himself. But then Sammy had never really felt the need to make Dad happy.

That was all Dean wanted. He wanted Dad to love him. He worked all day and all night trying to be the spitting image of his dad so that maybe one day at the end of a job Dad would look at him with pride in his eyes and say "you done good son." Just once. That he would say something, anything, any little shred of approval.  
But no.  
It was as if Dad hated him. Hated seeing him in the passenger seat of the Impala. Hated seeing how well he shot or how quickly he fought monsters or how obediently he followed orders. It had been years now since Dad was gone and still he heard his voice in the back of his head, yelling at him and telling him he wasn't good enough. That he was weak, that he was stupid and queer and bad and worthless. Usually Dean just drowned his voice out with beer. But deep down he didn't want to. He wanted to show that voice he was worthy. He wanted to make that voice happy, still, after years and years of that voice hurting him.

And then Cass came along and opened the door he thought he had sealed shut. Everything fell to pieces. But those pieces came together again and fit more wholly, more beautifully than they had before they broke. He made sense to himself now. He didn't have to define himself in terms of Dad. He could define himself in terms of Cass. Cass who loved him. Cass who told him he was worthy, who told him he was good, and strong. 

He remembered the first time they'd been together. Cass had asked Dean if he wanted him. Dean said yes, but that he didn't deserve him. He remembered how angry Cass had gotten. How he'd said "no," in his authoritative tone- a tone used by others, that Dean had been used to flinching at and attacking. But he didn't have to this time. This time that tone was being used in approval of him. This time he was being brought up, not down. 

He remembered how Cass had pushed him down and held him tight, saying that he was worthy, that he was good. He had felt so completely loved. There was no place he could go to escape Cass's approval. He'd never tell anyone, but he'd almost cried that first night with Cass. Not out of anger or fear or insufficiency, but out of happiness. For the first time ever someone was saying yes, you are good, yes you are worthy, forcefully and unarguably. 

But the world wouldn't let him have that, oh no. God forbid he be happy for more than a month.

Cass ate his fries. Dean tried not to look at him too long. It hurt. He wondered about what Balthazar said. That Cass was just trying to be like his Father, better than his Father.  
Was it true? He didn't want to think so. He wanted to be angry at Cass. But deep in his heart he saw it plain as day.

Castiel finished his food and ineffectively wiped his dirty face with his dirty sleeve.

"Dean," he said in the softest of voices, "I am sorry. I don't know how I can begin to atone for what I have done. I would not be opposed to death." He said. Dean frowned.

"Shut the fuck up." He said angrily.

"I'm serious, Dean. I hurt my brothers and sisters a thousand times more than anyone else has. And worse, I hurt you. I don't want..." he trailed off, a tear making a clean streak on his seemingly calm face. He looked down.

"I was a monster. Am a monster. I don't want to ever be again, but I didn't think I ever could. Dean-"

"No. Shut up."

"If you want-"

"No! I'm not gonna fucking kill you, Cass!" Dean yelled a little too loud.

Cass was looking intensely at the floor. "I wasn't going to ask that. I don't deserve that. I was going to do it myself." He said softly.

Dean was so angry and confused he didn't know what to do, except he was damn sure he wasn't going to let Cass die.

"No. Come on. I'm taking you home." He said, standing up and pulling on his arm. He buckled him into the Impala, noticing how thin he'd gotten and how weakly he moved. Deans jaw was in a permanent state of clench as he got in his side and woke up Baby. 

Castiel was very quiet.

~~~~

It was true. He didn't deserve death. But he couldn't think of a penance strong enough to atone, he couldn't risk hurting anyone else ever again.  
He couldn't understand why Dean had fed him or why he was taking him to safety- though he was glad. After his Grace had been taken away, he realized that his feelings were secondary to his needs. But then his feelings got stronger again and they waged war with each other in his mind, somewhere permanently swaying between needing food and not feeling like he deserved it. 

"Humans are better than Angels." He said. "I see now why our Father loved you more. We are too much like him, and he hated himself." He said very quietly. Dean was still, as if he hadn't heard him at all.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues to clench his jaw for multiple reasons. He's very good at it. It's his only defense.

Dean opened the door and Cass walked into the bunker, looking around nervously. Dean went to his side.

"Like it?" He asked. 

"It appears to be very safe." Castiel said. 

The space between their words ached for what used to be. Now it was just empty and silent and afraid. Dean almost would have preferred the Cass who was trying to be god- at least he knew what to say to that Cass. At least he could just be angry at that Cass. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked, eyeing the dried blood on the cuff of his old trench-coat. 

"Not extraordinarily." Cass said, looking at the floor. Dean sighed.

"Come on." He said, leading him to the bathroom.

"Dean, you don't have to." He said. 

"Take off the coat."

"Dean-"

"Just take it off, damn it!" Cass looked down and obeyed, shrugging off his coat. 

"Didn't used to be so hard to get you out of your clothes." Dean said without emotion, mostly to play off the fact that Cass's shirt was covered in dirt and blood and that scared him. For the first time he was really worried that Cass might die. A tiny smile crept into the corner of Castiel's mouth, more sad than anything.

"Dean, I'm so sorry." He said. 

"So am I." Dean said with finality. He was. He was sorry that Cass had done the things he had. Sorry things had turned out the way they did. 

It wasn't just his arm. Castiel also had a broken rib, a cut on his neck, and an infected, half-healed stab wound in his side. Dean began to patch him up as he sat there in silence.

"You gotta learn to take better care of yourself, Cass." He said.

"Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I think-"

"No. Don't you dare talk like that in my house." Said Dean, keeping his eyes on his work.

"You're thinking the same thing. I know how you feel, Dean." 

"Hell you do." He said.  
He cleaned the stab-wound carefully. Cass didn't flinch, though it must have hurt like hell. He bandaged it up and tried not to spend too long looking at Cass's body. It hurt to see him like that. He was bruised and way too thin. His ribs poked through his mottled skin, darkened by blood under the surface. His face was pale and thin, dirty and bloody. He sat there on the edge of the tub like a dog who'd just been rescued.

"Okay that's it. I'm gonna take you to the hospital." Dean said.

"No, please Dean-"

"There's only so much I can do, man. I can set your rib and I can clean the infection but that's a lot to fight." Dean said, not adding in the fact that he was afraid of his own hands. Afraid of the anger in his heart. He was afraid that he would hurt Cass more. Because a little part of him wanted to.

But this fear was unproven. He had been very gentle with Cass and had only taken care of him.

"I'll be fine. Please, Dean." 

"This isn't more of your suicide crap is it?" Dean asked angrily.

"If you're asking whether I'll die of my wounds, the answer is no." He said. He was looking down at the floor. 

Dean sat on the edge of the tub next to him. He rubbed his face and looked over at the fallen Angel who determinedly didn't meet his eyes. 

"Look man. Neither of us like the you that did all this crap. But don't block the other you from me. Please." He said. He needed Cass. He needed that one person who could make him feel worthy. It felt selfish. And Dean hated feeling so dependent, but he was. 

"I don't have a lot that's good, Cass. I really don't. But you were the best thing I had." he said. 

Cass frowned at the floor tiles. He let himself glance up at Dean.

"I'm not a 'thing', Dean." He replied. "I'm alive. I change, I make mistakes. I did those terrible things, not some other version of me. Granted, it got out of hand, and pulled me further than I should have let it- but it was always me." he said tiredly.

Dean's jaw set. "But why did you have to hurt me," He asked very quietly, staring at the door.

"I didn't mean to, Dean. If I knew it would have ended up this way, if I knew it would have hurt you, I never would have done it." 

"You mean you never would have failed and got caught." Dean said angrily, leaving the room.

~~~~

Cass sat on the edge of the tub and looked hungrily at the medical supplies. He was Human now. It would take so little...all that was really keeping him alive were a few layers of cells. 

"Here, take these." Said Dean, coming back in the room and handing him two pills. He scooped up the supplies and put a clean pair of clothes on the counter in their place. then he left. 

Cass took the pills and gingerly washed his hurt body. He was so weak!  
He used to be a warrior, strong even by Angelic standards. He used to fight. He used to lead a garrison and keep watch over the Earth. He used to have the power to heal others and himself.  
Was this his punishment?  
He wished he knew. Things were easier in Heaven. If he did something wrong there, he would always know what the punishment would be. He would always know that it would be sufficient. Now he didn't know what could possibly equal that pain he had caused.

Perhaps, he thought, not knowing was part of the punishment. This terrible feeling of being the horrible creature that he was. And Dean- Dean was his punishment as well. Dean who fed him and healed him even though he didn't deserve it.

He dried himself off and carefully put on the clothes. He felt as if he was about to pass out. He made his way to the living-room and curled up on the floor, and was soon fast asleep.

~~~~

Dean sat in his bedroom thinking. Cass wasn't his. Cass had never been his. They'd been together, but they didn't own each other. 

Did thinking that make it hurt a little less? Maybe.

He wondered if Cass was cold out on the couch. Should he have left him a heavier blanket?

He finished his beer from earlier. He wished Cass had been like any other job. If anyone else had tried to take over Heaven and got that bad Dean would have killed them. Why was Cass so special?

Something deep inside him reacted with pure anger to that question.  
Once, when he was very broken, early on when Sammy was still drinking Demon blood and things were really falling apart, he'd asked the same question about Sammy. He promised himself he would never ask that question of family again.  
And here he was.

He finished his beer and grabbed the quilt off his bed and went to the living room. Of course that little feather-butt was on the floor. Gently, so as not to wake him, he scooped Cass up off the floor and laid him on the couch. He was so light! Like a bird with his wings clipped. That had been hit by a car. Because it had decided to be a total douche and take over the street. 

He covered him with the blankets, tucking him in and smoothing down his hair a little. 

Then he went to bed before he could think too much. 

~~~~

Castiel woke. It was very late. He was on the couch covered in a blanket.

Dean wouldn't stop taking care of him. He thought very hard. His ribs hurt terribly.  
He wondered if it would hurt Dean if he died. He knew Dean was angry at him- but he also knew that Dean didn't want him to die. But wasn't that what he deserved?  
He rubbed his face. What would Dean say?  
He would say stop. He would say 'you messed up now get up and deal with it.'  
His stomach twisted around. He didn't want to live, but he wanted to make Dean happy- especially as he had hurt him so.

And so, Castiel decided to live.

~~~~

Balthazar woke and kissed Sam's head. He was sleeping less and that was good- it meant that he was getting stronger. Sam stirred and opened his eyes.

"Morning love," Balthazar said. "Did you like France?" he asked.

"It was awesome," Said Sam. He looked good, Balthazar thought, well-rested and happy. He wished he could take him to real France, not just a dream, but he was glad for what they had now. Sam yawned. "I need a drink," he said, groaning as he tried to pull himself up. 

"I'll get it," Balthazar said.

Sam laughed again, laying back on the bed with his hands behind his head.

"If you want," he said with a grin. Balthazar hopped up and pulled on some pants, wiggling a little when he felt Sam's eyes on him, just to make him laugh. He left the room and went through the living room-

He walked slowly backwards.

He looked on the couch again.

"...Cass-" 

He knelt beside the couch. Cass was sound asleep, his face pale and clammy. Very gently, Balthazar put his hand on his brother's face. He could feel his wounds- the broken rib and the infected side most prominent. He didn't have enough power to heal everything, but maybe he'd have enough to heal some of it.

~~~~

Cass opened his eyes. Balthazar's face came into clarity- and Cass was terribly afraid.

"Balthazar-" he gasped, shrinking away.

Balthazar laughed and rested his hand on Cass's face.

"Be not afraid, Cassy darling." He said gently. But Cass was. He saw Balthazar summoning his power. Cass closed his eyes. He did deserve this. He only wished he could have said he was sorry to Dean one last time.  
He felt Balthazar's power fill him, white light warming his blood. He opened his eyes carefully. He wasn't dead. His ribs didn't hurt as much and his side was healed.

"Balthazar-" 

"Shh, you look like you've been shoved through a blender. How did you get here? How did you loose your Grace? Are you okay? I've been so worried-" Balthazar said.

"Dean found me," he said. "The other Angels took my Grace and locked me out of Heaven. But Balthazar, how...I..."

Cass looked into Balthazar's smiling eyes, remembering how he'd forced the light out of them. But Balthazar grinned.

"Yes. It's okay. I'm back. But I'm not at full power, so I can't heal everything," he said. 

"But why- why are you healing me?" 

Balthazar laughed and kissed his forehead.

"Because you are my brother, Cassy. And I love you." He said. Sam came in the room.

"Hey Balth-" he stopped when he saw Castiel.

"Cass!" He said, rushing over to the couch. 

"Dean found him," Said Balthazar happily. 

"Are you...Human?" Sam asked carefully, crouching near the sofa.

"Yes, for the most part. My Grace is gone." He said, pushing himself up. Balthazar steadied him as he sat up. 

"Balthazar, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Shh, darling, I know. It's okay." He said. Dean came in

"Oh," he said when everyone looked up. He went into the kitchen without a word. 

The rest of the day was strange. Castiel felt better- not only because he had been mostly healed, but also because Balthazar was alive, and forgave him. That Sam forgave him. But Dean was silent. He didn't speak to Cass at all, and barely afforded him a single glance. Sam and Balthazar left to get supplies later on in the evening. Castiel went to clean his wounds. He pulled off his shirt carefully, his ribs still bruised and painful. The bandages on his neck were bloodied and stuck to his cut. He pulled them off painfully and gently cleaned it before putting a fresh bandage over it and tending to his arm. Dean was there in the doorway, watching with disapproval.

"I'm afraid I'm not very practiced in this sort of medicine." Said Castiel, continuing his work. "But as you said. I must learn to take better care of myself." 

Dean nodded. "Good. That's good." he said. Castiel's stomach growled. He wasn't used to deciphering what kind of pain meant what yet. Everything hurt, generally, so he was coming in at a bad time to learn. But Dean knew what it meant.

"Do you want some frozen burritos?" Asked Dean. Cass held back a grin. He loved frozen burritos. 

"I would love some," he said, finishing his work and pulling his shirt back on, carefully. It hung sadly off his emaciated body. Dean stepped out of the way to let Cass out of the bathroom, as if he were afraid to get too close. Cass wondered if it was because of how angry he was with him. He still had trouble reading Dean's new emotions toward him. But he didn't seem as angry as he did before, and he cooked burritos for both of them and sat down with Cass. Cass thanked him and they ate in the quiet.

Cass didn't usually tend to sentimentalize over the past, but maybe that was because he never had much of a past to sentimentalize over. Most of his life was cold and automatic, just strategy and maneuvers, work. There were moments of great joy, of course, there were times of magnificent victory and times of incredible sadness and loss- but none of those times stuck with him the way his memories of being with Dean did.  
There was a time when they would be talking and laughing loudly over their burritos. There was a time when they would eat listening to the radio, until Dean found it appropriate to climb atop the table to sing loudly with the song, inviting Cass up with a yearning, over-dramatic hand. There was a time when he would put his arm gently around Cass's waist and pull him in, and Cass's senses would be full of Dean- the smell of his skin and his leather jacket, the taste of his smile and the touch of his laughter.  
There was a time when the silence wasn't full of uncertainty, but of sureness. Sureness that they each loved each other fiercely. But now it was all uncertain and careful. Cass was afraid to talk because he was afraid to hurt him. But he glanced over and saw the radio. Dean was busy with his food. 

Cass got up quietly and turned it on. Dean's face perked up a little with the music. Cass smiled a little and sat back down. He knew Dean remembered when they used to dance together. He could see it in his eyes. But his eyes looked sad. Suddenly, Cass was afraid.

"I'm sorry-" he said quickly, getting up to turn it off. 

"No, leave it." Said Dean. Cass sat down. He looked at his food, then back at Dean.

"Would...would you like to dance?" He asked. Dean was quiet and looked afraid. Cass looked back at his food. 

"Never mind." He said quickly. Dean clenched his jaw.

~~~~

Dance?! Dean's heart felt like it was tying itself in knots. 

"Yes," he said very very quietly. Cass smiled and stood, holding out his hand. Dean got up and went to him, hesitating before gingerly wrapping his arm around Cass's waist.

He was terrified. Terrified out of his mind. He was afraid of the anger that grew in his heart. He was afraid that it would take over and that he would hurt Cass. And Cass was so weak...  
But he forced himself. He let his arm fall around Cass's waist and pull him in ever so gently, a careful, delicate shadow of what used to be. But Cass stood close to him and he felt his head lean a little in, gently resting on his shoulder. He breathed in the familiar smell of his Angel's hair, felt the familiar rhythm of his breath pressed against his chest. He felt himself relaxing, crumbling. 

Here he was, right? The one he'd hunted for to hurt in his rage, the one who was powerful enough to drag him out of Hell, the one who was strong enough to kill Leviathans with but a touch of his hand, who fought his way up to Heaven and stole the godhood to try to rule better than his Father. Here he was, the warrior Angel, gently huddling his frail, broken, powerless body against Dean's, afraid and sorry and unsure. Dean let his hand rest on Castiel's back, protectively. 

Castiel responded, cautiously, wrapping his hand around Dean under his jacket.

But then Dean remembered that he was a hunter. He remembered everything Dad had taught him. Dad's voice came clear through his head and screamed at him- his heart pounded and he was terrified again.  
Because he had been trained to kill things like Cass. Trained to kill them without a thought- and he'd countered that by saying there was no need, that he didn't want to, that Cass wouldn't let him. But now all of that fell apart. Now he had anger in his heart, anger that scared him. And Cass had wanted to die. And he had been so dangerous- he had done everything he could have to give Dad's voice in his head limitless desire to kill. And that terrified him.

"Cass-" He said, gently detangling himself from him, realizing that his own face was wet with tears. "I can't-" 

Cass's face was perfectly calm, waiting for Dean to make a move- any move, gentle or hostile. Dean shook his head and left the room before Cass saw him crying.

He hurried to his room and closed the door, sliding down to the floor. He couldn't. He couldn't trust himself. He was a piece of shit. He was a grunt trained to do nothing but kill, and that's what he would do, what he always did in the end. If he had to stay the hell away from Cass to make sure he didn't hurt him he would. Even if Cass was the only person in the world who made him feel completely okay, who made him feel like something more than just a killer. 

He wiped his face and got up, sat on the bed. He had no idea what to do. Usually he would tell himself that he would figure it out. Usually he knew that if he pushed everything down far enough it would blow over before it got too far. But this?  
He was completely lost.

Suddenly the door opened. Cass was there in the doorway, looking like a lost dog. Dean's heart fell apart. 

"Dean," he said softly.

"Don't say you're sorry- I know." Dean said. He wished he would just go away. He wished he would stop, be silent, go far away where he couldn't hurt him. Where he couldn't be hurt by him. But he didn't. He came a few steps closer.

"Cass, no. Please- I can't-"

"I don't understand. Your anger for me seems to have lessened, but something else-" 

Dean looked away. "Cass, I told you, I can't-"

"Can't what?"

Dean stared at the wall.

"Can't what, Dean?" He asked, taking a step closer.

"Is it me? Is it your anger for me?" He asked gently.

"No."

"What is it? Please," he said. Dean felt another tear roll down his cheek. Gently, hesitantly, Cass reached up to wipe it away. Dean flinched and pulled back. He looked hard into Cass's eyes.

"It's me, okay? I can't- I can't trust myself."

Cass cocked his head, and wiped away the tear. "Trust yourself to what?"

"To not hurt you." 

Cass frowned. "I don't understand. You have never hurt me. You have been more of a Guardian Angel to me, really, than I could ever have been to you. I was the one who hurt you." He said. Dean hung his head.

"Yeah I know."

Cass nodded. "I see my presence is hurting you. I will leave." He said, heading towards the door. 

"Cass-" Dean said, looking up. Cass turned and faced him again, hope in his eyes. 

"Damn it Cass you're supposed to tell me everything is gonna be okay." Dean said, laughing even though he was crying. Cass grinned and went to him again. 

"Is it okay- if I hug you?" He asked hesitantly. Dean nodded, laughing again. Gently, Cass held Dean close, and Dean wrapped his arms around Cass's waist, his head against his chest.

"Everything is gonna be okay." Said Cass, stroking his hair. "You're a good man. You're not your father. You're not a grunt." he said. Dean buried his face in Cass's t-shirt.  
"And if there is any risk at all of me being hurt by being around you, I take it willingly." Said Cass.

Dean pulled away a tiny bit. 

"Whatsay we both promise never to hurt each other and pretend none of the bad stuff ever happened." He said. He expected Cass to laugh and say something about coping mechanisms, like he used to. But Cass's face remained very serious. 

"I agree." He said. 

"Cass?" 

"Yes Dean?"

"Kiss me." He begged very softly. Cass smiled a little and leaned in, bringing his lips just barely to Deans. Dean held the back of Cass's head, bringing him in closer, ever so gently. His other hand went around the back of Cass's knee, drawing it up beside him on the bed. Cass responded by straddling his lap, and Dean let his hand support Cass, spreading over his back. He felt his ribs through his thin t-shirt and slowed down.  
He kissed Cass like he was made of glass. Ever so carefully, he lifted Cass and laid him on the bed, laying down next to him and letting his lips ghost over his face. Cass laughed a little. Dean laughed in return. Just like that it was all like it had been for a moment. Cass nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean's neck and they held each other. 

Suddenly, Dean forgave him. Forgave him everything. 

"I love you Cass," Dean said softly.

~~~~

Cass froze. His heart was heavier than a planet and lighter than a butterfly. Dean still loved him. After all that, Dean still loved him. 

"I love you too, Dean." He replied. He felt himself begin to cry, silently. Being Human came with this. He had to re-learn to control himself. Dean heard him, though, and pulled away a little. 

"No- shh, Cass, it's okay Cass." He said, wiping away his tears. Cass felt extraordinarily weak. He felt terribly tired. He just nodded in response to Deans words. 

"Okay," said Dean, gently stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. "It's gonna be okay." 

"I feel so weak," said Cass. Dean rested his hand on the side of his face.

"We're gonna get you better okay? But you gotta take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself." He said. Cass cried a little harder. Dean looked worried. 

"Shh..." he said, stroking his hair again. "It's okay. You can. I swear. It will be okay if you do. Cause I been there, Cass. I did some things no one in their right mind would have done- and I did them willingly. And I let them go farther than they should have. But you know what? Being ashamed didn't fix any of it. Just held me back from doing what right I could. Being ashamed only makes it worse. You just gotta say yeah, I messed up, now what can I do to make it right? And you take that with you. And you hold it close. You don't forget what you done and yeah, it'll never feel good- but at least you'll still be fighting. And this time 'round you'll be sure to fight right. For the right side." He said.

"So there is no punishment? How do I atone?" Cass asked, ignoring the tears that ran down his face slowly.

"No punishment down here but your gut. You atone by doing good again. Moving on. Being better than you were." He said. Cass nodded, his tears stopping a little. 

Dean brushed back Cass's hair a little. "But look at you man, you're half dead. We need to get you better. You need sleep." He said. Cass nodded again, giving Dean a little smile. He slowly started to get up. 

"Where you goin'?" 

"To sleep," Cass said, confused. 

"Oh. Well- you could stay here if you want. It would be warmer. I mean you seem cold all the time. If you want." He said.

"Would it bother you?" 

Dean looked at Cass. "No. I want you to. Please." He said with a grin.

Cass smiled a little and laid back down.

"I think we're getting healthy." he said very softly. Dean laughed and pulled off his jeans. "Yeah don't get your hopes up. Healthy is kinda contrary to the family business."

Cass laughed as his hurt ribs would allow.

"Need a hand with your pants?" Dean asked.

"I- what?"

"Come on, man. It's cruel and unusual punishment to sleep in jeans. You don't need any more of that." He said. 

Cass let him help. This was new, and interesting. They had been in situations like this before- every night for a while, in fact- but they had always been passionate. Now it was just...love. The kind and caring sort. Not that they never shared a gentle moment before, but this time was different. There were no pretensions whatsoever. The slate was clean, but not awkwardly so.  
Dean helped him pull down his jeans and pulled the warm covers up over them both. Cass was grateful, because his ribs made it hard to bend. Dean pulled the little string on the lamp and covered them in darkness. 

~~~~

Dean was still a little afraid, but he tried not to think of it. He drowned out his dad's voice with the smell of Cass's hair as he snuggled close to him, listening to the steadiness of his breath as he fell asleep.  
It was gonna be okay.


End file.
